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You wake up in the evening is not "Oh my god, what have I done and whose eyeballs are these on my fingertips," but "Damn. I wanted green ones this time."
Whenever you enter a small, darkened room, you have the strangest urge to claw through the ceiling.
You think that "Pin the tail on the Donkey" is much more fun with a _real_ donkey.
You find yourself cheering for the zombies in "Evil Dead 2."
Campfires give you the strangest urge to start leaping.
You get excited when, while viewing your own aura, you actually see a spot of colour.
You _know_ what the road to Hell is paved with.
Shovels give you the chills.
The phrase "collateral damage" shows up in your speech more than once an hour.
You begin to refer to people by the number of generations they are above you, and the amount of time before you're there.
You start to like mimes. If they carry sharp objects.
You are no longer surprised when your colleagues say things like "and then I sucked out his soul, ripped off his arm, and played a game of croquet."
You were the other player in the croquet game.
The phrase "Bishop takes Pawn" brings a stab of fear into your heart.
You spend balmy summer evenings engaged in acid-gun fights
You see it as your unlife's work to teach people that "Stop, Drop, and Roll" is for wimps
You can easily picture those PETA freaks as fur coats... and just as easily bring that picture to life
The title of your favourite relaxation tapes are: "Crowded Tenement House Burning to the Ground in New York City" and "Midnight Buffet in Times Square, With Added Shrieking"
You think true works of art must include a good amount of blood and severed limbs, preferably fresh
Your favourite breakfast is a whole mess of Justicar Crispies
You see Charles Manson as the father of Dinner Theatre
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You might be a Cam Justicar if....
You smoke a pack a night
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